


Say You Need Me Too

by adams_song



Series: Francisco Garupe [2]
Category: Silence (2016)
Genre: 20th Century, Adam Driver Smut, Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Breeding Kink, Church Sex, Comfort, Confessional Sex, Confessions, Desperation, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Garupe is thicc, Horniness, Idiots in Love, Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Mentions of Pregnancy, Praise Kink, Priest Kink, Sackler calling you kid - Garupe calling you child, Semi-Public Sex, Sins, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sweat, Teasing, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28388277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adams_song/pseuds/adams_song
Summary: He closed his eyes as he exhaled, and he saw your pretty hands, so soft, and so perfect all over him.Don’t.A voice inside his head warned.Not now.And not there, no need for the gratuitous blasphemy. He could wait. He knew all about holding back, and waiting…Not like he hadn’t fucked his hand to the memory of you more times than he could remember.
Relationships: Adam Driver & Reader, Adam Driver & You, Adam Driver/You, Francisco Garupe/Original Character(s), Francisco Garupe/Original Female Character(s), Francisco Garupe/You
Series: Francisco Garupe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079021
Comments: 22
Kudos: 32





	Say You Need Me Too

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nocturnalchild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nocturnalchild/gifts), [Midnight_catapult89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnight_catapult89/gifts), [Turkington82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turkington82/gifts), [Lunacylife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunacylife/gifts), [JustMika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustMika/gifts), [Contesa_lui_Alucard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Contesa_lui_Alucard/gifts), [Dancingmicrobes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingmicrobes/gifts).



> Well here it FiNaLLy is... The sequel to "In my Thoughts and Prayers", because we all agreed they deserved it!  
> I'll take a little break now, but I've made a series for the adventures of these two hornies. SO WHO KNOWS.
> 
> ***
> 
> I've gifted this work to all the beautiful people who left comments asking for part two, it was the only way I found to tag y'all and let you know it was UP. Hope that's ok! And to my dearest Nocturnalchild: thank you, thank you, thank you!

Francisco sat alone in the dark booth, wondering if he would have to listen to another poor bastard’s confessions before he was done for the day. He took this waiting time to contemplate on himself, the shape he was in. Somehow, he’d been feeling less like “Father Garupe” and more like just Francisco for some time. His devotion didn’t appease his soul like it used to, he found his head, his thoughts and his prayers always drifting… always back to you. Like he had promised all that time ago… How long had it been? Probably way too long for the memory to be this vivid.

He shifted in his seat. All those church seats, booths and benches, always a punishing 90 degree angle of hard wood, always too narrow, never enough space for his legs. They made his back hurt. Righteously punished for his own sins, he thought. He was stacking a good amount of those, going back to the first one, the one he shared with you on that hazy summer evening… His original sin.

It was getting hot inside the confessional, at the end of his duty hours. He always ran hot anyway. He pulled at his collar, loosening it and taking the white band off, then threw his head back with a slow, drawn out inhale. Damn, his robe was suffocating him too, not letting his chest fully expand. He closed his eyes as he exhaled, and he saw your pretty hands, so soft, and so perfect all over him. _Don’t._ A voice inside his head warned. _Not now._ And not there, no need for the gratuitous blasphemy. He could wait. He knew all about holding back, and waiting…

Not like he hadn’t fucked his hand to the memory of you more times than he could remember. The thought only made his cock jump in frustration, and he reached out to squeeze it, if only to stave off the need.

He always felt miserable afterwards, but couldn’t help it. He felt like a fraud towards the church, and to make matters worse, it didn’t even feel right, not without you there… Still he tortured himself with his inadequacy, not able to admit just how badly he missed you.

He was no coward. He would go find you, he would… if you weren’t married, if he wasn’t who he was. But like a real coward, he had officiated your wedding, bounding you to another man. He gave his blessing, exchanging only a few longing glances with you, and ran out right after the ceremony ended. That day had destroyed him, and that night was the first one he cried, sobbed against his arms in his lonely bed.

But he was better now, after many months he had accepted his fate, and was ready to lead a quiet clerical life. That was until the wood creaked next to him and he heard _your voice_. 

* * *

“It is you.” You heard the unmistakably deep baritone of the man you were looking for.

“Yes. _Father_.”

There was a long, heavy silence. Garupe’s heart was pounding wildly in his chest. He didn’t think you’d ever come see him again. _I’ve thought about you every single day, I’m losing my mind, I need you, I need…_ He needed to take it easy. And perform his duty.

“What can I do for you _my child_?”

He sounded different, he sounded… sad. You couldn’t see him but you could hear it in his voice. It made your stomach sink to a very dark place and filled your heart with regret. Every time you had felt the urge to see him, you had fought it. You didn’t think it was appropriate, how much you wanted to. But now that your life was falling apart you just couldn’t stop yourself anymore, you needed to see him… and there was a stupid panel between you.

“Just talking is fine I guess.”

“Alright. Go on then.”

“Well - I…” You resented yourself already, for having to bring _that_ up. “It’s marriage again.”

“Does he not treat you well?” Garupe instantly growled, voice dark and dangerous.

“Uhm, he is…“

“…”

“It’s fine, Father, he… is trying to give me a child.”

He calmed down… to some extent; “That’s wonderful, the miracle of life is uh, something to be celebrated.”

“There is nothing to celebrate… It’s not happening. I do my best, just like… Well… we try.”

The conversation was going down a path he dreaded deeply. Procreation was the last thing he wanted to discuss with you, he hated to imagine you in the arms of that man, but the topic wasn’t for him to decide. He didn’t know how much longer he could feign enthusiasm, so he went the proverbial route.

“The one-flesh union of husband and wife does not always result in pregnancy. Children are a welcome blessing but couples who can’t conceive exist, and that’s respectable in the eyes of God too.”

“Believe me, it is not respectable in the eyes of my husband… or his family. They blame me, they say I’m barren. They say he never should have married me. He is taking mistresses… He’s going to leave me.”

Tears ran silently down your cheeks but you didn’t care, he couldn’t see. But oh how he wanted to, hearing your affliction made him want to comfort you, kiss your forehead sweetly and call you his child… his, his, his.

“So… just to be clear; Your husband fulfills his marital duty, regularly.”

“Yes.”

The weight of a rock fell on Garupe’s chest. 

“And there is a… successful delivery, to the end…?”

“Yes… Just like we practiced…”

Another rock. It’s _ridiculous_ he thought, scrunching his eyes.

“And they say YOU are sterile. You’re in the prime of your life, and he is, how old…?”

“I know, Father… But there’s nothing I can do to prove it.”

Your voice caught in your throat and he heard you sniffle. He tightened his fist, still holding his crumpled white collar. He felt a surge of rage and powerlessness, every emotion he had been trying to suppress hitting him all at once. He slammed his fist against the wood of the seat and threw the collar on the floor in anger.

“F-Father Garupe…?”

“Don’t call me that — _Please… y/n._ ”

“Francisco—”

He almost ripped the little curtain that covered the latticed screen separating the both of you. You saw his dark liquid eyes on the other side, leaning so close to the small window, stalking through the little holes like a man starved.

The weight of the things unspoken hung in the air, heavier than the incense smoke and the wax of a thousand molten candles.

You were staring so intensely at each other, his labored breath seeping slowly through the screen, and it had you wanting to feel it on your skin, on your fingers if nothing else. The endless warmth of him. It was terribly inappropriate, but your hand was already on the lattice, mingling with his breath and unlocking forbidden memories of how it had felt to touch him, how he had trembled for you, the day he had saved you.

His voice was thick with emotion as he spoke;

“You must know I’d never let anything or anyone harm you. Whatever happens I’ll — I’ll take care of you.” _Always_. The veiled vision of you almost brought him to a full confession. He would do anything for you, anything. Give it all up, everything he was, he didn’t care. Even if you didn’t want him the same way he wanted you. You couldn’t possibly see, but his hand was also splayed on the wall near the window, aching and yearning.

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart couldn’t fathom the beauty of that man, inside and outside, he was an angel, your angel… but he wasn’t actually _yours_ , he could never be. You had been broken and confused for so long, you let others make decisions for you, and you did “the right thing”, marrying a man you didn’t love… in front of the only one that ever really mattered. New brides weren’t supposed to cry on their wedding night, but you did. You had been terrified about it for so long, and when the moment came, it had been so dull and unremarkable, just a dash of pain and no pleasure. A cold, meaningless act. You didn’t sleep that night, just shed quiet tears on your pillow, remembering the heated looks Garupe had given you earlier, before his expression became unreadable. You remembered the way his voice nearly failed him as he pronounced you husband and wife, and how he’d disappeared without a word afterwards.

Miserable and heartbroken, you questioned everything that had led you to that place, to that bed, next to _that_ man. You had made no decisions and had had no choice, but that was your life now, and there was nothing you could do but to accept it. You were gonna be a wife, you were gonna be a mother, and you were supposed to consider yourself lucky. But even that life, as steady and mediocre as it seemed, was at stake now.

The silence could have been painful if Francisco hadn’t been able to read everything your eyes were telling him. His mouth slowly drew closer to your fingers, and you pressed them harder against the screen, an open declaration of want.

He whispered, deep and hot against your skin;

“Tell me, have you sinned?”

“No, Father.”

“Then why,” He brushed your fingers with his thick scorching lips “are you on the other side?”

* * *

Francisco couldn’t believe his own nerve. You did that to him, he had no control around you at all. What was he even doing? His judgement was clouded and the f of the confessional was a solid reminder of the obstacles that stood between you, a reminder he didn’t want. He would go on the penitent’s side himself if you didn’t come before him that very moment, but luckily he didn’t have to entertain that idea for too long.

You stood, intoxicated by his words, running your still tingling fingers across the exposed skin of your chest, half hoping he’d catch a glimpse. What were you even doing? There was a muffled thud and a whimper on the other side. Francisco could punch a hole right though that flimsy little screen, if his arms weren’t paralyzed, if you were still there. But you weren’t, and the door to his booth was moving, and then there was light, and then you. Blinding, beautiful, sinful you, standing by the doorway, not daring to cross the threshold. Just that second, a sudden loud noise thundered from above, startling the soul out of you and making you rush inside, slamming the door shut behind your back. Hearing you gasp for air, Francisco’s anxious expression softened and broke into a shy smile.

“It’s just the bells, child” He chuckled, as his eyebrows shot up towards the sound. “My service is over…” He mumbled, smile quickly dissolving as his puppy eyes finally, properly took you in, all of you. He swallowed, making a split second decision. _Sacrilege._

“C’mere.”

_Come here where?_ There were only a couple steps between you, and you were already taking the first one.

He held his breath and looked up at you as he took your hand, and started pulling you to him very slowly.

You let him, his eyes darkening and consuming yours, until you stood between his legs, chest tight and heaving in front of his face. Without breaking eye contact, his hands moved to hover at your sides, grazing your hips ever so slightly, waiting, vibrating in silence. It was pointless; like a moth to a flame, your fingers flew to his shiny black hair, stroking it gently, cradling the sides of his face. You had wondered how soft it would feel, many times, but you could never have imagined hair so incredibly silky on a grown man. His expression blissed out and he allowed himself to fall into you, inhaling deeply as he tenderly nuzzled your chest, sliding his hands up your back. You encouraged him, digging deeper into his thick locks, finding his ears and lightly scraping behind them with your nails, making shivers run down his spine. He rubbed his face on your sternum, your ribs, your stomach, breathing you in all the while, before finally nestling his cheek between your breasts, eyes closed in reverence.

You embraced one another like that for long while, quietly sensing each other, hearts racing and loneliness fading in an instant that felt like coming home. God, you had missed your big gentle priest, his big warm hands holding you close, pressing on your back to bring you even closer to him, he couldn’t get enough.

It wasn't like the first time… That time he didn’t really touch you or seek you like this. This was different, you both had spent so much time longing, wondering… Treasuring the memory of the time you shared together, but never daring to hope for anything more. You told yourselves that it hadn’t been right, that you shouldn’t have let it happen. But now that you were reunited, the tenderness between you was simply overwhelming, and you were too gone to care, or even remember how wrong it supposedly was.

“You smell…” he breathed “So…” He buried his face further down your cleavage, closed his eyes and kept murmuring, voice muffled and hot against your skin, “Sweet, so sweet… oh Lord…”

The lace on your cleavage was slowly coming undone under Francisco’s attentions, and so was his sanity. His hands wandered to the disheveled string, stilling before touching it, waiting for your outrage and rejection at any second. But it didn’t come, and his fingers shook uncontrollably as he untangled the loops… still he was graceful, loosening them gently. He gave you time to stop him again before daring to pull the fabric apart, seeking your eyes as he nervously chewed on his bottom lip. With his heart on his throat, he felt his bravery slip; he didn’t know what he was doing, and he was scared, scared that he might offend you, that he might do something wrong and push you away.

Your heart ached, your body ached… you wanted him so badly, but he still doubted.

“Francisco, you may touch me, I… I want you to touch me,” You tried to re-assure him, “can’t you see?”

* * *

Putting your hands on his, you gently guided them back to your chest, to the swell of your still half covered breasts, and all he could do was gasp for breath. Moan, soft little sounds coming from very deep within him, as you slowly helped him massage you. His delicious warmth seeped through your chest, his touch inflaming you like nothing else. His long fingers now explored on their own, following your curves, mapping every inch of you. When they finally dipped below your neckline, you practically wiggled your breasts out, impatient, drowning in lust. He froze, and for a moment he just stared at them, taking a big shuddering breath, bewildered as can be; he wanted to bury his face in there for ever, stop thinking of anything else, and just… feel. Feel how nice, how heavenly, how smooth you were, get lost in you… it wasn’t hard to send everything to hell and lean over to do just that. Gathering your breasts in his huge palms, he started mouthing and nipping at them out of instinct, as you moved to straddle his thighs, both of you getting bolder, breaths quickening and stray elbows hitting wood, desperate to get a hold of each other.

He ate you up like his life depended on it; he had just found his new favorite thing, the most dangerous drug, and he’d lost every last sliver of doubt, any semblance of control. His insides felt suddenly alive, twisting with need as he grabbed your ass with both hands and pushed you down onto his lap, making you sit on top of his raging hardness. You felt him pulse against your core as he purposely ground into you, kneading the flesh of your ass, still lapping and suckling wildly at your breasts. His teeth softly teased your wet nipples, his tongue and lips were all over you. Things escalated fast and you knew it was too late to turn back. Nobody else made you wet like he did, only he had that effect on you… Your body wanted him inside, and so did you. You thought it would be like losing your virginity all over again, only with someone you really cared for this time, someone who cared deeply for you too. But he was agitated, getting too riled up… With your little experience and the way he throbbed beneath you, you knew you had to slow down, or it all could be over soon, too soon.

“Francisco —Father— FATHER!” You yelped as he humped against you with a fierce grunt.

“Shhhh, look at me, look at me.” You ran your hands through his gorgeous raven hair, gently bringing him back to earth, to your eyes, just enough to connect with him in that quiet, secret way you always did.

“M’sorry, I didn’t—” He rasped. “Don’t know what came over me.”

“Shhh…” You kept soothing him, admiring the honeyed hazel of his irises around those big, dark, smoldering pupils. “It’s alright, please, don’t apologize. Let’s just… take it easy… This is a lot… must be a lot for you too.”

“S’alot.” He conceded, nodding while trying to catch his breath, slowly calming under your influence.

He felt all fuzzy as he looked at you through heavy lidded eyes, trailing down your face to your mouth, heart racing at the thought of finally tasting your lips. The haze he was swimming in, drowning in, certainly made him think of the unthinkable. Because he still wasn’t sure you wanted that, and he definitely didn’t want to take the risk and do something foolish, God knows how close he just was to spilling in his robes. He was at your mercy, you and only you would decide the severity of his sins.

* * *

You rocked your hips just a little and he let out a helpless whine. God, he was so hard it hurt.

“You’re drenched.” You pointed out, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

He huffed a laugh, wiping his brow with the back of his sleeve, looking sheepish as he replied;

“I am… What are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know, perhaps you are…” You reached for his back, “…wearing a thousand layers…” you bunched up as much cloth as you could in your hands, “…again!” you sentenced, standing up and pulling with enough force to take most of the garments off.

He looked slightly astonished, sitting there smiling in just his underpants, his long fluffy hair adorably mussed. His body began to flush red as your eyes scanned him, the color creeping down to his chest and those endless planes of creamy skin, stretched over bulging, fleshy muscles that made absolutely no sense on a priest. And Jesus Christ, the sheer size of him. He was big everywhere, bigger and thicker than you remembered.

“Too many layers.” He agreed, catching you staring but not flinching an inch. He was flustered, but didn’t seem as shy, as worried about his modesty as the first time you undressed him. He didn’t even try to hide his unmistakable arousal, didn’t mutter half a prayer. You nervously rearranged your dress, still stunned by the sight of him. Neither of you dared to move. The rush of adrenaline was fading and the silence stretched, becoming deafening as Francisco’s confidence visibly deflated. He frowned at the floor as if something bothered him, something he had to say. You could tell by the way his jaw worked, chewing on the words before bringing himself to utter them.

“I’ve thought about you like this.” He finally stammered, “You’re all I can think about, in fact and in faith, I feel like I… I am going insane.”

… _Tell me I don’t have to._

He met your your eyes, his stare conflicted but profoundly intense in its sincerity.

“Say you need me too.”

Once again you started to close the distance separating you, with your heart leaping in your chest, his own chest heaving as he abruptly stood up. His feverish fingertips landed on your hips, eyes boring down on yours from his towering height.

The words formed effortlessly in your mind; Why did they refuse to leave your mouth? Why weren’t you able to tell this man what he most longed to hear? It was the first time you admitted it to yourself, after all. But weren’t you just about to give him your body, maybe even your whole soul? You were ready, you were ready, you were ready…

“I have thought about you too, and I…”

He drew a shaky breath as his hands tightened on your hips, gently pulling your body flush against his. He dropped his head to meet your face, his erection pressing hot and hard against your belly. He was so close it was dizzying, his full lips parted and alluring, sighing warm air into yours… You were completely under his spell and you couldn’t resist, you didn’t want to resist. Your arms reached up to him, and just as you began to raise on your tiptoes to claim his mouth, he pulled back from you. He pulled back, and it seemed to take all of his will to do so. Inside, he was bracing himself for the worst, yet his eyes still glimmered with genuine hope, darting between yours and your mouth, demanding:

“Say it, y/n.”

The gravity of his tone sent shivers straight to your bones. It was your turn to confess the truth that was burning in your chest; you _did_ need him, and he needed to hear it, it was useless to deny it. You swallowed the knot on your throat as your fingers caressed the soft strands of hair on the back of his neck, already telling him without words…

“I need you too.”

* * *

A huge weight was lifted off your chest, all tension dissipating at the admission.

An unbelieving smile tugged on Francisco’s lips; he felt endlessly relieved, ecstatic for a second. His heart hammered with a thousand emotions, fixating on one thing only: you had said the words, and that was enough… enough for him to surrender to you. He did not know anything beyond that; he couldn’t think straight, his desire was too overpowering. The ache in your heart grew close to unbearable with the way his eyes sparkled for you; You needed him, all of him.

“Pleas…” Before you could finish begging he was crashing his lips to yours, brave and needy, wrapping you in his arms and lifting you off the floor like you weighed nothing. _Hot damn._ You urgently returned his kiss, clinging to his broad shoulders and curling your legs around him. Your hand brushed the soft stubble on his face as you cupped his cheek, tilting your head to devour his mouth, slowly sucking his sinful lips open. He was pliant and willing in his inexperience, letting you take the lead, and didn’t seem to mind the change of pace. If anything, he found it even more captivating.

Francisco’s mind was all over the place. He was _kissing_ you, and you were kissing him _back_ , and it was… enlightening; better than he could have ever imagined. His lips moved passionately as he tried to keep up with you, learning fast and starting to explore with his own tongue too. He mirrored your movements and you both moaned when your tongues first met, getting to taste each other at last. His tongue was like hot velvet in your mouth, sliding against yours in a slow, languid dance. It felt too good, and you never wanted to let go of him. You needed to keep touching him, keep sharing your oxygen with him… Because you had kissed before, but everything about this felt like a first. You found yourself positively, hopelessly, lost in him.

“You taste like heaven” He exhaled. “Want all of you…”

He moved to kiss the corner of your mouth, your cheek and your jaw, leaving a trail of burning kisses down your throat as his body surged forward to rest your back on the wooden wall. Using his weight to pin you against it, his hands were free to roam, and this time he did not hesitate to tear your cleavage wide open, taking everything he could in his hot mouth and running his smooth palms up and down the rest. He wanted to continue peeling your dress away, so badly and eagerly that he forgot he could only bend down so much, that the thigh he had pressed between your legs was also there for stability, he forgot everything but to keep exposing your soft flesh to his eyes, his hands, his mouth… You gasped as you slid down the wall together, nearly hitting the ground weren’t it for his extraordinary strength. His arms scooped you up, and swiftly placed you on the confessional seat as he kneeled before you, determined to continue his worship between your legs.

His massive frame was now perfectly level with yours and he used the chance to ardently kiss your lips as he slid his hands up your thighs. Warm, heavy palms on top, thumbs lightly skimming the sensitive inner side, hitching your dress higher and higher on their way up. His actions were making you flutter with pleasure and anticipation as he overwhelmed all your senses; the combined caresses of his hands and his soft puffy lips, so perfect and smooth on top of yours. The solid, welcoming heat of his bare chest under your fingers. The exquisite scent of him _,_ gradually, fatally engulfing you. You smoothed your hands up his back and buried your nose in the crook of his neck, wanting to indulge in it for a moment; the clean scent of Castile soap, and that of fresh cotton linens still clinging to his warm skin; a hint of something woody, spicy… Frankincense maybe; and thin layer of sweat that coated the roots of his downy hair. The combination was delightful but it was more than that, there was something else… Something so uniquely _him_ , and so endlessly appealing to you, that you thought, really believed then, he must have been made for you. Just for you.

The maddening brush of your naked chests had you tightening your embrace around him, closing the gap and welding you together, closer than you’d ever been. With him pressed up against your breasts, you returned to licking into his mouth, pulling moan after moan from him. His wandering hands reached the hem of your underwear but his thumbs stayed low, barely grazing your heated core.

His eyes rolled back and he had to suppress the need to just _thrust_.

* * *

“D’y— D’you want me?” He managed to ask, voice raw.

“Yes, Francisco—”

His thick thumbs applied delicious pressure to both sides of your clit in response, making you squirm. You felt them stroke you through the fabric, one thumb drawing a line down your slit to push against your soaked entrance while the other kept rubbing slow, teasing circles around your clit. His touch sent overflowing waves of pleasure right through you, a feeling so intense that threatened to rip your insides apart.

“Want this?” He panted, now nudging your center with his thick hard length.

“Yes, please, yes…” You panted even harder.

He couldn’t possibly know, couldn’t possibly understand what he did to you, how he made your head spin and want more, more, more… anything he could give, you wanted to take.

He wasted no time stripping off your underwear and shoving his own down sloppily, then he was on you again. You felt his heavy cock swipe up and down the dripping folds of your cunt, throbbing and desperate for relief. It was so wet and so hot already, so god damned hot, he wondered how on earth he’d be able to survive any more of it. And you, you were already dying, dying to feel the tight fit of his cock inside you, like you had been for a very long time.

You encompassed the movement of his rutting hips, making his tip catch on your entrance almost by miracle. His eyes widened and he went quiet and still, awfully still, muscles tense and shivering like a wire about to snap. Every atom of your body was screaming at him, begging him to please, please, _push_. He held your gaze as he cautiously inched forward, his body slowly eclipsing yours, and— _Oh God. Oh. God._ He could have sobbed at the way your pussy began to swallow him, so warm and welcoming, squeezing his virgin cock tight enough to make him wheeze. He truly believed he would die then, unable to speak or make a sound, he wasn’t even breathing, his mind empty of anything but the delirious, dizzying feel of you, wrapped around him like that… He would die happy. His vision blurred and he practically collapsed on top of you, before he could brace himself on the wall behind you. He jolted back up with a sharp inhale followed by a low, strained groan.

* * *

It took him several moments to get used to the feeling and breathe again, move again, spurred by your tender praise, the brush of your lips and your caresses. He was holding on for dear life and wasn’t even halfway in, but he gritted his teeth and carried on. Always caring and considerate, cautiously watching your face for any sign of distress, only to find pink flushed cheeks, a biting lip and a beautiful pinch of pleasure on your brow. A sight so entrancing he couldn’t keep his eyes away, couldn’t help but trace with his fingertips in awe.

You tried to breathe evenly as he parted and stretched your flesh in steady little thrusts, unhurried, getting deeper and deeper each time. It did burn a little but he was being so gentle, giving you —and himself— more than enough time to adjust. And God, he was so thick and it felt so unbelievably good as he filled you, reaching places that had never even been grazed before. Yes, this was another level, a completely new and superior level of sex for you, _this was it._

The soft sounds you were making, your little gasps and moans, they drew him further inside with just the way his cock swelled and throbbed. You kept giving in and he wanted it all, he wanted to bury himself all the way inside you, claim every inch of your heat, make you _his_. And it was so close now, so close, just a few more thrusts. He was patient man, but struggled with his self control; even as he bottomed out he kept pushing, hardly able to hold back, until you brought a calming hand to his face. He leaned into your touch, brushing your palm with his lips, eyes shining with faithful adoration. Trembling and fully sheathed inside you, his chest expanded in a full, long, settling breath. You were finally merged together, and it felt so certain, so true, so unequivocally… right, unlike anything else in your bleak separate lives.

You smiled at each other sort of incredulously, overcome with not just the physical but the emotional intimacy of it all, both your hearts bursting with it. Nothing Francisco had ever experienced could compare, and it was driving him to madness.

“God you’re tight— you— weren’t joking…”

He remembered your little confession from months ago very well, and his words came back to your memory too.

“Mhmm, but you were right… it fits.”

Neither of you could hold back a chuckle at the hushed, serious tone of the exchange. Soft giggles that quickly melted into hot breaths, more fumbling and messy, hungry kisses. His breath was ragged and feral as he tentatively started pumping into you, slow and deep, one big hand cradling your head from behind, the other squeezing at your hip. Nothing could have prepared him for the pure bliss that was the drag of your pussy, it made his knees weak and he sobbed with it. He pressed your face to his, and you kissed him, kissed every part of his face you could reach while meeting his thrusts that were picking up speed.

The aged wooden structure creaked under you, not used to such rattlings. Your hands sought purchase in his lush dark hair, tangling in it and tugging softly. He choked a whimper, throwing his head back as he started ramming into you in earnest, lost in your flesh, the sins of the flesh… Only then could he fully comprehend them, only then could he understand how dangerous they were towards the faith, for they could make a man worship something far above his God. But it couldn’t be wrong, _this_ could not be wrong, it could not… Being with you was the closest he’d ever been to a true religious experience; to finding that _something_ he didn’t know he’d been missing, but had blindly been searching for his whole life. Maybe… Was he… having a revelation? You were wrecking him, blowing him away. And he could only wish for more.

You could feel his need for you in the way he held you impossibly close, caged you between his arms, the way his breath hitched every single time he sank into your cunt. You clenched with it, and he growled low in your ear, making heat rush through your veins. You had never felt such carnal desire, such wild fire under your skin, your whole world reduced to him and the mesmerizing rock of his hips, as his perfect cock started hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars. You squeezed at the muscled flesh of his back, digging your nails in as your mouth started to spill obscene cries of pleasure. He got the message and kept his relentless pace at that angle, pulling back just enough to sneak a glance at the place your bodies met, over and over, like a sacred dance. He also noticed the way your belly bulged a little with his deepest thrusts, and how beautifully you cried with it. It sent his mind reeling, almost ruining his effort not to climax just yet, a task he’d only miraculously managed until then. Resting his sweaty forehead against yours, he decided to focus on your eyes instead; they kept him grounded as his turbulent breathing became a little calmer and his movements more collected. But he wan’t sure he could manage for much longer, and he wanted to feel you cum, more than anything. He needed to be enough for you, to be worthy.

“I won’t last—“ The words left him shakily, eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re doing so good Fran— so good to me, just like that… Don’t stop my love…”

He couldn’t have stopped. Your sweet loving praise, your meaningful words, knowing he was pleasing you, the glide of your slick cunt on his straining cock… It was all becoming too much, too good. He latched on to your neck, lips bruising and sucking at your pulse point as you frantically rutted against each other, hips shifting and grinding, seeking for friction. You could feel it then, the heat simmering low in your gut, fizzling and prickling at your skin, menacing to boil over as you ravaged each other. Your throat felt dry as moan after lewd moan left your mouth, and he groaned rhythmically with the snap of his hips that was growing in urgency and need for release.

Francisco hissed against your skin, painfully aware of his impending orgasm, but before he could even warn you he started to feel you come undone beneath him, gasping and contracting and trembling in his arms as thick bubbles of lust exploded inside you, spreading liquid pleasure to every corner of your being. You felt weightless and relished the way he tightened his embrace around you as he made your soul ascend. The sensation for him was otherworldly, his hips never stopped moving, and he chanted your name like a prayer. He was in awe of you. He couldn’t believe you were real, that he was witnessing this moment. He felt eternally blessed for it.

You gripped him tight as you came, you wouldn’t let him go, just babbled incoherently,

“Please, please, please… Francisco, please…” It was irresistible, the most beautiful plea.

Your walls kept fluttering, sucking him in, and he was convinced you were gonna end him. He eyed you, searching your eyes with despair as his breathing and thrusts became erratic. You intently stared back and nodded, and he knew then, he understood that you really wanted all of him, and that he wasn’t delusional to want to give it to you. Whatever the risk, whatever the outcome.

Francisco unleashed his wildest desires, all of his muscles rippling as the strongest wave of pleasure yet washed through him, pushing him to the edge, knowing he had permission to truly claim you. His hips stuttered and bucked one last time before stilling, as close to you as possible. A pained exhale escaped him followed by fast, breathy gasps as his cock pulsed violently inside you, filling your cunt with endless spurts of his thick, hot cum. He cussed unintelligibly as he spilled, drowning in his own ecstasy.

“Take my seed… Take it… take it…” He roared as he ground against you, still cumming and pushing it deeper inside your cunt.

“It’s yours… I’m yours…”

His chest heaved and his cock throbbed as you moved with him, milking him of every last drop until you were completely, utterly full of him. He felt drowsy and lightheaded, but he had never felt better.

You noticed his eyes were shiny at the seams before he collapsed on top of you, quivering with the aftershocks of his intense climax. His shallow breaths slowly deepened, and you could feel the strong thud of his heart against your chest. He held your thighs up against his for a long time, keeping you nice and plugged with his persevering erection. His hips still jerked involuntarily from time to time. You massaged his now relaxed shoulders, muscles soft and yielding, and caressed his hair slightly; you would never get enough of that texture. He hummed in satisfaction, mouth skimming up your neck to press a warm kiss behind your ear.

“That was divine, you’re— incredible” He breathed, just for you to hear.

“So beautiful…” He rambled quietly, “So perfect…” His pillowy lips planted soft kisses along your jaw, then captured your mouth in a slow, hot, breathless kiss. After a while and without breaking the kiss, Francisco crushed you to him and stood, lifting you up. He stretched his knees, turned around and sat down with you on his lap, still connected. He didn’t want to pull out just yet, maybe ever… So he tucked your head under his chin and engulfed you further in his arms. He held you firmly, almost as if afraid to let go.

You cherished the gesture, it prevented your body from melting down, or floating away, you didn’t know… You smiled against his flushed meaty chest, pressing your lips to his pec, tongue eventually coming out to poke at his tender nipple. You swore that man was edible to you as you ended up lavishing the sensitive bud with abandon, his soft handsome whines making your stomach twist and turn. He twitched lightly, still inside you. But he was spent and softening, and he could feel a small trickle of his cum drip down to the seat. He whined and whimpered some more as his cock started sliding out of you against his will. He was only consoled by the fact that most of his seed seemed to stay inside you, warm and safe, where it belonged. And that little puddle at the seat, it would seep into the holy wood and mark it forever with your shared sin, the secret union of your two souls, and nobody would ever know.

Francisco knew his body would recover soon enough, and he wished he could make love to you again, and again. But the euphoria had ebbed enough for him to quiet those thoughts in favor of more rational ones. In the back of his mind he knew too well that you both were playing with fire, and the loud clattering of church bells above you only confirmed it.

* * *

The urgent, accusing noise made reality creep back into you a bit too harshly. You suddenly felt lost, so empty and lost without him nestled inside you; aimless, almost pointless in your existence… You knew what you had done was incredibly risky, some might even say foolish, or plain stupid. It could easily end up in disaster… But it had been your choice, yours and his. And you had the feeling it would work out for the best, whatever the best looked like. Even then, you couldn’t stay. And that hurt you the most.

Sensing your turmoil, he cupped and tilted your face up with both hands. They were huge and warm and comforting, just like him. You gazed long into each other’s eyes, both wishing for the moment to never end. Francisco wiped the corners of your eyes with his thumbs and finally broke the silence, feeling heartsick but determined to make things easier for you.

“I know you have to go.”

His voice came out husky, almost broken, but he attempted his best to smile.

_Stay._

_Please,_

_stay._

As much as he tried, he could not silence that other voice, the one that longed for you even as you were still there, in front of him.

“I’ll come back.”

He squeezed you. “Soon?”

“Soon, I promise—” You squeezed him back, “I promise.”

“…I have some new sins to confess already…”

He smiled, really smiled then.

He looked you up and down as you stood back up and recomposed yourself and your clothing. His gaze lingered on your stomach, and he bowed forward to press a balmy kiss there. His eyes flicked to yours then, betraying the true depth of his affection. He held your hand until the very last moment.

“Goodbye Fath— Fran…”

“You called me _your love_.” He reminded you with a joyfully smug look on his face.

You couldn’t believe he was the one making you blush now… You swatted him with a coy, knowing smile and he blessed you with another one of his, his most beautiful, toothy, crooked smile. In that moment he was not a priest anymore, he was just Francisco.

“See you around, Child.” This time, he knew he would.

**Author's Note:**

> [SPOILER ALERT] She def. is pregnant with Garupe's child 😱
> 
> Thanks for reading!!! Did ya like it?! Did ya not? I want to know! Leave a comment 💌


End file.
